The Little Games We Play
by LegendaryStarCat
Summary: Kitty Pryde and Peter Quill play all kinds of fun games.
1. Chapter 1

Kitty had draped herself lazily over Peter's lap as they rested in the "Presidential" residence of Spartax. The oddness of the situation aside, the role had some perks, specifically the beautiful surroundings, peaceful libraries, luxurious baths, and the giant, plush bed that they settled on top of together.

The bed was surrounded by a tall canopy of golden gauze that rustled in the soft breeze through the open French doors (could they still be considered French doors when they were in outer space?), which overlooked the gardens below. Gamora was somewhere in the gardens, meditating, but that was the furthest thing from Peter's mind.

Kitty was pursing a book she had found in the library. While she was very well-versed in the cultures of the Shi'ar and the Ord of Breakworld, Spartax was one of the locations that she still had plenty to learn about. She had crawled into the bed with the book an hour ago, sprawling on top of Peter's lap, her hips and thighs resting in his lap, and had read. Just read. It was torture for Peter. He didn't want to bother her or interrupt her, but he had...other things he was interested in while she sat there on top of him.

He fiddled with his comm devices for a bit, playing a game of Snake on it for about a half an hour before finally giving up and giving in.

He cupped Kitty's ass gently. She looked up from her book, over her shoulder, and smiled at him. That seemed indication enough that he could continue. He squeezed her cheek slightly, resting back against the stack of pillows he had created when he settled in the bed that afternoon. His hand played against the soft fabric of her dress. Kitty had opted to wear the Spartax equivalent of a sundress that day, instead of her uniform. The floaty, space-aged fabric suited her; the seamstress in the palace had gleefully created a dress with layers of filmy yellow, blue, and pink fabric, swirling together. It was backless (much to Kitty's initial chagrin), but she liked the golden clasp necklace that made up the dress's neckline, so she decided she could bear going braless-at least the gravity on Spartax seemed lighter.

Still cupping, Peter's other hand flirted at the hemline of the dress, his nail lightly scraping against the backs of Kitty's thighs. Her skin twitched, like a cat who's neck shivers in surprise at a sudden touch, and she let out a soft, breathy sigh. His fingers inched further as she turned a page of the book. She was halfway done. Peter wondered if she was at a stopping point.

His hand fully slips under her skirt, tickling against her panties. "Are you done with the book yet?" His question holds a hint of playful lust.

"Mmmm," Kitty practically purrs, a mischievous grin curls across her lips as she tries desperately not to smile. "No, I want to finish this chapter."

Peter pouts, jutting his lower lip out in a mock puppy dog expression. "I don't like that answer." His hand resting above her dress rises and falls against her ass, spanking lightly.

This is a game they have started to play. Testing one anothers boundaries, learning where they stand, what they like, new places they can go together (though sometimes Kitty wonders how new the things they do are for Peter; then she remembers that he's almost never been in a committed relationship).

Peter admires Kitty's curiosity and adventurousness, coupled with her ultimate desire for just a pure, loving connection between the two of them. He likes that she almost always wants to end face-to-face, coming as close to together as they can. Peter's never had that before.

Kitty giggles at the spank, blushing warm already. "Is that the best you've got?"

Peter raises his eyebrows. "Hmmm, well, how bad have you been?"

Kitty marks her place in her book and cranes her neck back to look at him. "Well...I did encourage you to steal a dangerous and priceless artifact from a well-known criminal with a squad of vicious hitman at his disposal."

Peter nods approvingly, "that is pretty naughty." He raises his hand spanking her harder, two times.

"I thought you said bad, not naughty."

"Is there a difference?"

She nods, "there," he spanks her hard, "is." He spanks her again. She moans softly.

He smiles warmly. "Do tell."

"Well that was bad. It was also bad that I submitted to said dangerous and priceless artifact to gain some level of cosmic power." He spanks her three times in a row, and she squirms on his lap. "And then we let said artifact get taken away by an alien we'd never met to do God-knows-what."

He spanks her softly, "the blame for that one is certainly not yours. But you still haven't told me the difference between bad and naughty..." His hand that was resting underneath her dress snakes the fabric up over her ass to reveal her panties: lace. He loves when she wears lace panties.

He slaps her ass, seeing a blossom of pinkness in the holes between the lace. Kitty feels him growing harder beneath her hips. His hand rubs against the fabric of her underwear softly, tenderly.

"Yes, so those were all 'bad' things to do, but a 'naughty' thing...that would be like giving you head in the cockpit." He giggles at the double entendre while his dick jumps at the memory.

"That was pretty naughty." He lifts his hand and brings it crashing down against her skin, ass jiggling an earthquake in the aftermath of the hit. She lets out a long, rocky moan. "But not enough." His finger skims down the back seam of her panties, almost reaching the wet stain between her legs before stopping abruptly. She whimpers in anticipation and disappointment.

"Well, it's not just things I've done with you...it's things I want to do with you."

His hand caresses and gropes her ass, teasing down to the wetness already gushing from his pussy, never quite reaching where she wants him to touch. He traces the pattern of her panties slowly. "Do tell."

"Well," she stretches on his lap, tensing her butt playfully under his hands. "Beyond the standard stuff we usually do..."

"I wouldn't call it standard." He slaps her ass hard, her skin beginning to freckle with an imprint of the lace.

She moans warmly, "oh, it's not, but I'd also like you to tie me up."

"Tie you up?" His eyebrows raise in genuine surprise.

Kitty blushes, a little sheepish, "yeah."

He grins. "It figures a woman who can get out of anything would like to try being tied up." She blushes, embarrassed, but he caresses her behind warmly, fingers slipping down to tease at her entrance. "I can absolutely do that!"

She giggles. "Well, since you have so much experience being tied up, I trust you'll treat me well."

"I will always treat you well." One hand strokes against her clit while the other brings a hard spank down against her cheek. "Anything more?"

"Mmmm, and maybe I could dance for you..."

"Sexy dance? I like that!"

She snorts, "but while you're cuffed up."

He reddens, but grins. "You tease." He pulls her panties down, spanking her full on four times.

"And I'm sure I could come up with more naughty fun, but I'm awful distracted right now."

He nods, "I can tell." He spanks the underside of her ass before dipping his fingers directly into her, no pretense, no teasing, two fingers full in.

Kitty lets out a happy howl as his index and middle finger work inside of her, finding her spot, pinkie rubbing slowly at her swollen rosebud, while his other hand continues smacking, leaving hot red marks against her ass.

Kitty comes intensely as she shouts his name, rocking against his fingers, ass arching up as she croons. His fingers work faster, so as not to loose her peaking. He brings her to another jolting orgasm, before she flops down against his erection, spent.

She groans softly into the bed sheets, as Peter reaches to draw the gauzy curtains closed around them. He cups her ass again, softly this time, and strokes her reddened skin, soothing it.

"So that tying up thing, do you want to try that now?"

Kitty lets out a tired laugh. "Let me recuperate for a sec." Her hips grind against his. "I think it's your turn next."


	2. Chapter 2

Peter shot a sideways glance upward at Kitty's slim fingers, which were delicately working a soft rope around his wrists. Nice and tight, oddly arousing when it was her doing it, and not some luggy alien that was kidnapping him.

"You're pretty good at this."

Kitty smiled softly. "You have to learn a thing or two when you spend time with Wolverine in Japan..."

Peter's mouth went agape. "Seriously?"

She gave him a dirty look and slapped his belly lightly. "No, you doofus, I was making a joke!"

He giggled and smirked. "Are you going to whip me if I misbehave?"

Kitty rolled her eyes. "How very Justin Timberlake of you."

"Huh?" Peter's smirk turned into a vacuous smile before a slight spark of recognition lit, "the guy from *N Sync?"

Kitty snorted. "I forget your cache of popular references purportedly cuts off somewhere in the 90s."

Peter shrugged, a pathetic looking gesture, considering his wrists dangled above his head. "What can I say?"

She shook her head and shushed him. "You don't have to say anything." She leaned in, giving him a long kiss that left him straining for her when their lips parted. "I already know you're a big dork."

"The biggest!" He thrust his hips upward with what would be a seductive smirk-if he didn't look so silly, flopping around like a fish at the end of a hook.

"Mmmhm." She ran her hand down his chest to the bulge in his pants. She squeezed him firmly, and he practically melted beneath her fingers. Well, except for one part of him, which got much, much harder.

He squirmed a little more needily, but Kitty tutted at his rudderless movement. "Am I going to have to tie your legs down, too?" She grinned toothily, and he whimpered.

"No." She shot her puppy dog eyes, "but do I have to call you mistress or something?"

Kitty rolled her eyes, pulling his coat open, "god, no. Do I look like Emma Frost?"

"I'm sure we could get someone here to make you a bustier." He looked hopeful.

"I am not opposed to various lingerie, but nothing in the vein of the White Queen, please." Content with stroking his chest slowly for the moment, she phased his shirt off, but left his token red jacket on.

The slow teasing caused Peter to reflexively tense his muscles. Kitty ran a single finger down the center of his tightened chest, nail tickling the faint spray of chest hair slightly. Her finger eventually came to rest at his belly button, tapping it once so it made a hollow, thunking noise. Peter giggled.

Her fingers went lower, to the trail of hair that led down like an arrow to his package. He groaned softly, biting his lip in anticipation.

Kitty smiled and shook her head, taking her hand away before it had even reached the first button of his pants. Peter whimpered, and she gave him a warning look.

"Not yet. Please, it all has to be about the build up." She stood up from the bed and walked away, and Peter held in a sad whine, hoping he knew what would come next.

The first thing to go were her panties. The teasing lace, already soaked through a few times over, discarded carelessly from the billowing dress. She must have phased right through them, they seem to float ethereally to the floor.

But it's Kitty who's really ethereal. Spinning lightly on her bare feet, the hint of her naked body swaying and gyrating beneath the airy fabric of her dress, she moved like she was made of the wind and the stars (which, Peter guessed, she kind of is now). But this seemed to be something she'd always been able to do, to dance like the planets move and the galaxies spin.

Nothing about the dance was genuinely sexual, but to see her so enrapt in the dance, opening herself up to him, even if he was tied up, it's an experience. And part of that experience is arousing. Very arousing.

Her padding feet bring her closer to him, then futher, then spinning closer still; fabrics swell in the breeze she creates and the one coming through the open French doors. And suddenly there was no dress and nothing was covering her body at all. The gauzy covering lay discarded on the floor at her pointed toes, phased off.

Her body arced, her breasts swaying slightly, her round hips swung, and she came to the bed. She rested a hand on his face, sitting on the edge, so close, yet so away from him. He strained to kiss her, and she relents. A long kiss on his lips trails down to his jaw, teasing suckling. She moved up to his ear, planting an echoing kiss before sucking his earlobe in to her mouth, toying with it with her tongue. He let out a contented, needy groan.

She pulled away, and straddled him, pussy pressed against his belly button, rocking up towards his abs. Wetness streaks against his stomach, and this time he does strain for real; he can't help it, he simply needs her.

Her legs tensed around his middle, and she phases his jacket off smoothly, still rocking against him, emitting light, feathery moans.

Peter held his breath, trying to hold in a whimpering "please" that still slipped out.

Kitty nodded, watching him lovingly through lidded eyes, a shining smile spreading across her lips. Softly panting, she reached her hands down between her legs, unbuttoning his pants, snaking them and his boxers down. Settling on top of him, she rocked softly. He cooed along with him, tilting his hips when he can, not enough to knock her off her groove, but enough to rub against her, to add friction to her motion.

Peter strained against the ropes, wanting nothing more than to grab her hips, but Kitty tied the knots expertly. She put her hand to his face, rocking faster against him. His body tensed and Peter tried to relax (as much as one can relax during vigorous activities) and let Kitty take control.

Kitty rocked faster, bouncing, her body contorting like she was dancing, straddled on top of him. Peter grunted, no longer able to still his hips, and braced his legs, moving his hips in time with her's. Their bodies twined together, Peter stilled trussed up and flopping, Kitty twisting and curling gracefully around him.

In their odd pas de dux, the two come together, curled in to one another, Peter's legs tented up to support Kitty as she arches down and back in a imagined penché. He pushed up into her, lifting her as her body blurs from flesh into light and stars and love.

They came together, and then Kitty collapsed onto the prone Peter.

After their pants subsided, Peter wiggled a little. "Can you untie me now...? I wanna hold you."

Kitty smiled up blearily at him, "I'll think about it."


	3. Chapter 3

Peter's hands have been wrapped around Kitty now for what feels like hours. Good hours, warm hours, happy hours, but now he's sufficiently recuperated and is feeling up for more. Kitty certainly doesn't seem disinterested, she's been tweaking and teasing his nipples with her fingers and lips for the past ten minutes. Peter makes small noises of distress, but he's obviously enjoying it. Who wouldn't?

Kitty runs a purple painted nail across the nipple closest to her, softly, but enough that he feels the little slash, and feels himself harden, but also cringe slightly, in response. His shoulders come forward and his chest shirks back from her finger, and he whines, leaning his head to kiss the top of her mussed hair. "You're so mean." He mumbles into the mess of curls.

She smiles up at him, all Cheshire grins. She's a minx. She's his minx. He lifts her up easily, suddenly and inspired, and sits up, switching places on the bed so now she's laying down and he's stroking her breasts and tweaking her nipples. She likes it even more than he does.

His calloused fingers tweak and pluck, hardening her nipples to little points before he gathers her breasts in both of his big hands and brings his mouth down to their peaks. He starts by kissing, his lips only rubbing soft against the hardening of her nipples and the goosepimpled flesh of her areolae. Then his tongue snakes out, warm and wet, to coat her skin and bring the budding nipples, one at a time, into his mouth, where he runs his teeth along them, carefully, so carefully, drawing squeals out of Kitty's parted lips.

He likes those squeals.

He picks he up and flips her over, and she starts to giggle uncontrollably. He grins and kisses her shoulder. "What's so funny?"

Between titters, "you...flipped me like...a pancake or something!" She smiles so warmly at him, even in the middle of her laughing fit.

He snorts and bites her shoulder, sucking and just hard enough to leave a purpley-blue bruise in the shape of his mouth. It will look just like her skin when she turns into stars. "You're my favorite flapjack." He nips her again, softer this time.

She coughs, still laugh, on hand attempting to swat him, but he avoids it easily; it's hard to swipe at someone with any sort of precision when your on your stomach and they're behind you. He cups her ass, and she lifts her hips willingly, though still quaking slightly with the after effects of a good chuckle. He holds her steady, kissing one cheek, her hip, the straight line of her spine running down to...

One finger probes her warmth, tickling the folds of her labia, and he finds she's still wet and warm, practically dripping, even after all their cooing and cuddling. He kisses her ass again, low enough that his bottom lip puckers against the bottom of her wetness. This earns him a low, needy moan from Kitty, whose face is now cuddled into the pillow that smells like Peter-a deep, red scent of spices, leather, a hint of oil, and good shampoo.

He pulls out of the kiss, licking his bottom lip clean, and continues his finger's journey through her folds, up to the tight pucker of her ass. Everything is soaked in the runoff of her pleasure. He plays at her hole of a moment, teasing the tight entrance, and she squirms in response, not uncomfortable with it, but also completely foreign to her.

He grips her cheeks, moving his finger away from what he perceives is uncomfortable to her, and drags her down by her hips, to the the edge of the bed, where he now stands. He lifts her up a little, and Kitty has to marvel at how inconsequentially light she seems to him, yet how she can also feel his muscles tense and his body work. Even if he is part alien, he's still a good portion human, and he's obviously worked hard to obtain he barrel chested, thickly muscled physique.

He brings himself into her and all of Kitty's thoughts simply fall to how very, very good she feels. He fills her up to the point of being overwhelmed, but fits just right. She's like Goldielocks if the story became much, much dirtier, and less of a metaphor for effort, selfishness, and societal rules starring bears.

Kitty hums happily and Peter groans in turn with his rhythmic pumping. His hands rub and smack and play across her hindquarters, and Kitty presses further back into him, making a needy, curious noise. Peter thinks he understands, and obliges, finger snaking back to tease gently at her asshole.

He is slow and soft, but deliberate with his motions, stopping when she makes anxious or unhappy noises (she barely does). His finger plays opposite the rhythm of his cock, maybe he can even feel himself within her from both sides. It's an odd sensation for Kitty, almost too full, but also so satisfying. Every shift and slide and move he makes elicits soft groans from her, growing steadily louder as she tenses, her insides clinging to him.

She bunches up the bed sheets in her hands and lets out a happy crow, squeezing around him. Her eyes are clenched, brow sweaty, and she's biting her lip in utter concentration. Peter slips his fingers away from her, feeling spent. He pumps a few more moments, savoring the feeling of moving into her, dragging her orgasm on, before coming inside of her and resting himself practically on top of her backside.

She tilts her body just enough to reach out to him, grabbing the air to indicate she wants to hold him and wants to be held as well. Peter obliges, slipping out of her excruciatingly slowly, disposing of his condom, and sleepily climbing into the bed with her.

His arms pull her into a bear hug, and she wraps herself around his body as well, in a happy stupor. If they had been less spent, less enraptured by one another, less tuned out from the rest of the universe, perhaps they would have heard Gamora grumbling grumpily outside about the price one has to pay for cosmic powers.


End file.
